Living Again
by Placidmage
Summary: Duo has always been different, but strange dreams foreshadow a transformation and help him to meet someone who seems to know him already.....(eventual 1+2)
1. A Dream

This first part is weird, I know, but it's important to the story later on, if I decide to continue it, that is.  
  
  
  
Please Read and Review so I know what to do with this. Thanks!  
  
Oh, yeah, the beginning is bad, but it gets better nearing the end. 1+2.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Living Again: Part 1  
  
  
  
This time I know why I came here. The city was just what I needed to clear my mind right now.  
  
(Duo!) The voice started up again. No, I'm not crazy, hearing voices in my head. The voice is just there to guide me, or something, I guess, but I now curse the day it first uttered my name. It's been trying to tell me something for years, I know, but it always says that it's not time for me to know yet.  
  
I had been plagued by that 'voice' for years, the one that has kept telling me that there's something left for me to live for, someone who needs my help. I know that it's hard to believe that someone like me could possibly be of any help to anyone, but to be perfectly frank, that's the only reason I've kept on living.  
  
I think it has something to do with all those weird dreams I've been having lately. I keep coming back to the same mirror in the same room in the same house every time I have the dream. It just takes me there.  
  
The mirror is decked with ancient inscriptions, and rusted with age. When I see myself in the mirror, I never see myself as I'd expect. My reflection is usually dressed in my priest's uniform, just as I am, and is an exact replica of me from the below waist-length braid to my wild violet eyes.  
  
Yes, it was me all right, but there is a most notable difference between us. This mainly is was the pair of black wings that reflected off the mirror's perfect surface, protruding from between my shoulder blades. They came up sharply, almost like you would expect a bat's wings to, and I will always feel a kind of weight on my shoulders as if this distortion was, in fact, my true reflection.  
  
The most mysterious part, though, is that when I look up to see if they are above me, I fall into a purple sort of hazy world where the 'voice' will sit me down and talk to me until I wake up.  
  
However, if I wait long enough without letting my curiosity get the best of me, I am allowed into a second room that's usually bolted up when I enter the dream. Inside it there's nothing except an old framed picture of this really beautiful guy on the wall and a window on the wall next to him, that allows the moonlight to come in just enough so that I can make out his features. He has white wings, like an angel, and these really amazing, and intense blue eyes. I've often wished I could meet him, and spent nights talking to his picture on the wall. But a dream is a dream, and nothing more, ne?  
  
(Duo! Hey you! Don't pretend like you don't hear me, buddy!) The impatient 'voice' huffed.  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I hear you, but I should let you know that you're not going to talk me out of this. You're the reason I always have to leave, and this time, you're not going to stop me from traveling back here! This is the only home I've got.'  
  
(Yes, I know that, Duo. I am sorry, but we couldn't take the chance of them finding your location.)  
  
'Who are THEY? And what can't THEY find out?!!!'  
  
(Sorry, Duo. You're too important to us, we can't risk telling you yet. We have a pretty good idea that you've been having the dreams already, but it's not safe enough.)  
  
'Who are WE?!!!!' I swear, if this guy was in the physical world, he'd be sooooo dead. I've been asking him the same questions for years, and he refuses to give me any answers. He's always been there, and holds some sort of odd respect for me that I could never understand.  
  
(We are your protectors. That is all you need to know. Goodbye, sir. Next time we meet you will understand.)  
  
Good, I'll never see him again. There's no way I'm going to understand why I have to keep leaving, why I'm always hiding. It's no big loss, really; I never liked him, anyway.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
The city has always felt like home to me, but right now, its just another place to hide from the faults of my past. Damn, I hate remembering!  
  
Any other place might bring comfort at this time of night. But then again, even being in a dark alley right now would have be so comforting if it weren't for the words that were still ringing in my ears. 'We can't risk telling you yet'. Risk what? I ask you! What is so important in this life of mine that I have to protect it with my misery?  
  
The truth is that I don't belong anywhere. Well, I sure showed them. I had given them what they wanted, and I...damn it all! I'm running away again. Why do I always have to be hiding?  
  
Back in the big city, roaming the streets for a vacancy sign. It isn't helping me much, watching the city lights flashing up above me. It might as well be night for how luminescent the streets are.  
  
I know I have to get out of this crowded part of town. That looks like a dreary enough alley, over there. I just hope I can find a room to stay the night. Yeah, I have some money, but it won't last me long. Not here, at least. I'd find a job soon, though. The city's full of odd jobs, and with my skills, and charming personality, it shouldn't be very hard to find one that suits me.  
  
There it is! Up there, on the door sign, do you see it? 'Room for rent', uh huh. This is the place. I knock gently on the door, and wait for an answer.  
  
This is a really dreary section of town, I know, but I might not even be able to afford what they're asking of me. It looks like this is a three- apartment building. Kind of run-down, but it will do very nicely.  
  
"Hello," I tip my cap at the silent man who answered the door, "Duo Maxwell."  
  
  
  
"Yes. Here for the room?" He doesn't seem like much of a conversationalist, but who is at this time of night?  
  
I nod my head. Hell yeah. I'm a complete stranger knocking on your door at midnight; this should be a hint.  
  
"Come in and sit down a moment," the man with long bangs covering one eye turned inside and clearly had gone to get something. Taking a seat, I look around the place. Not too bad. Could use a little paint, perhaps, but this is a better home then I've ever known. It didn't matter anyway, what kindness this person had to show me. I'll be leaving soon, I might need a friend, but I wasn't the kind to drag someone into a friendship that I couldn't keep. That's why I have to be so cold.  
  
"My name's Trowa. I manage this place." He set a sandwich in front of me. Why the hell was this guy giving me food? I can't take it. I can't make any friends that I'd just bring pain to in the end. I was changing, ever so slowly, I knew.  
  
I tried to put it out of my mind, but the black wings I have been seeing in my dreams have been becoming more of a reality. I could have sworn that just this morning while I was taking a shower that I felt two bumps between my shoulders when I was washing my hair. I checked all over my back, of course, once I got out, but nothing seemed to be wrong. I'm probably just imagining things.  
  
"Please eat." The man said after seeing that I am a man of pride and I wasn't going to take the food without an honorable cause, "I don't get many visitors, I would like to show a bit of hospitality. You are hungry, am I right?"  
  
I nod my head. It's true, I haven't eaten since half a roll at breakfast, but I refuse to make friends that I know I can't keep, and hunger is a price I have to pay. I push away the plate with a smile.  
  
"I appreciate it, really, but I can't accept this. I come for a room, and that's all. I can't afford to be owing any favors."  
  
Trowa nodded at this as he led me upstairs to my room. I'm glad he understands, or maybe he's just pretending. I wonder if everyone was only pretending. Is this life just to tease me? I'd probably be better off if I were dead. I close the door to the room behind me and bid my new manager good night.  
  
If there was somebody who cared, they'd have found me already, but there isn't. And if that isn't enough to think about, I'm not even sure if I'm human anymore. What does fate have in store for me, I wonder. It's a cruel fate, this one that I'm destined to.  
  
I collapse on the hard bed in exhaust. Doesn't anyone else understand how I feel? My angel would know. I drift off to sleep watching the clouds float across the moon lazily, just like me. Always drifting, with nowhere to go  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ (Dreaming) _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
I'm in the house again, but I'm not afraid. I would recognize this dream anywhere, and I always know exactly where to go.  
  
It's just as dark and cold as I remember it being here, but at least I have somewhere familiar to go back to, even if it isn't a home, but rather, a sanctuary. Admittedly, it is a very creepy sanctuary.  
  
I walk up the creaky stairs to find a crooked landing with a couple of floorboards missing. It's no big deal. Just a minor thing, although I have noticed that the house has been crumbling in the many years I have occupied it in my dreams. I know just where I am supposed to go.  
  
The room on the left is always so silent, and the door creaks closed behind me all on its own so that the only light on the antique mirror is that of the moon through the broken window. I silently step over to it to find the familiar reflection of myself in somewhat of a vampire form, with only the black wings creating our difference. And there it is again, the weight on my back of wings, the black wings in the mirror. I watch as the mirror copies my every movement, and I reach back to grab my braid. It seems to be the only thing that gives me comfort when I'm alone like this.  
  
I don't dare look up for fear I will end up talking with the 'voice' again, and so I start to leave, something I had never attempted to do so far in my dreams. I am sick and tired of the wings and the dreams, and I want out! Pounding against the door, I feel tears streak against my cheeks and I start yelling at the dream.  
  
"If anyone can hear me, anyone at all! Know that I am Duo Maxwell, and I am not the person who you think I am! I will not be a pawn in your games! Damn you all!" I let myself cry silently, but I refuse to sob. Loneliness is not something to cry over, you know, but I am weak. I always have been.  
  
I feel, then, all of a sudden, an icy hand on my shoulder, and I am frightened that it feels so comforting. Did someone hear me? Did I offend them? Damn my mouth. I feel the hand slip off my shoulder as I spin around, and I feel my teary eyes open wide as I stare into beautifully intense blue eyes. My angel?  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
* smiles *  
  
I know; cliffhangers are evil, but I love suspense.  
  
Should I continue?  
  
Please Review.  
  
Thanks so much!!!!! 


	2. A Transformation

Transformation:  
  
I looked up into intense blue eyes, and lost myself. He was the one on the painting in the second room. I had spent so many of my dreams watching his face up on the wall stare down at me with the same look he wore, but it had changed slightly since then. He looked concerned for me, and almost sympathetic, but I hadn't the strength to say anything even though I felt the angel expected me to.  
  
I was right in naming him an angel. I backed away a little, and I saw the full extent of his beauty. The angel's silhouette stood against the very large window behind him, and white, feathered wings shone brilliantly in the dark. Beautiful..  
  
"I'm sorry," He said finally, with a beautifully deep voice that echoed through the room. He turned his eyes and face from me, so I could no longer see the cobalt blue eyes that had captivated me so completely a moment before. Slowly crossing his arms, he rotated his entire body to look at another wall.  
  
He was simply perfect in every way, and it made my heart jump, the way he looked at me. I wished he would look at me that way again.  
  
"S.Sorry for what?"  
  
"We can't leave." He told me quite seriously, and almost as if it was his own fault.  
  
"What do you mean 'we'? This is my dream."  
  
"Dream..?" He was silent for a moment and stared disbelieving at me for a minute. I couldn't understand. What was so hard to believe?  
  
"You're DREAMING this," the angel realized seriously with the tiniest hint of a question. He then looked at me, almost lost, and very lonely, beginning to walk over to the other end of the room. He was going to leave!  
  
"Wait.!!" I protested, even though I knew it was already too late.  
  
"I shouldn't have come," the angel softly interrupted, although he had my complete attention, turning his head painfully back at me once more before disappearing silently into the shadows.  
  
The angel was gone, and I didn't even notice when I started crying. The angel was so beautiful, and I had caused that pained look on his face.  
  
A white angel, a mysterious dream, a protective voice, and coal black wings, what does it all mean? I cried into the mirror, staring helplessly at the person in the mirror that cried right back at me, only he was more sorrowful. He had to live with those wings forever. Good thing this was only a dream.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
I woke up slowly from my illusion and was a little startled, but definitely relieved that it was indeed, only an illusion. It sure felt real, but I'm sure that was simply my overactive imagination running away with me again.  
  
I yawned loudly in my new apartment, and took a look at my watch. It was just about 11, and I needed to get ready. After all, I had a very important job to do today...find one.  
  
I quickly put on my favorite black pants and leather jacket, with a tight, red turtle-neck underneath. It took me a little longer to brush and braid my hair, and I bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. I was greeted by my manager, Trowa, was it? Curious blue eyes peeked across the room and the cheery young blond man hopped over to greet me.  
  
"Hello! My name's Quatre Raberba Winner," he extended his hand, and I shook it gratefully. I widened my smile at the gesture; at least someone was happy around here.  
  
"I'm Duo, Duo Maxwell." I announced a little less than proudly, realizing the name for the first time in a long time and all that it encompassed. Truth be told, I never really knew who I was, and only had just recently become close to finding out.  
  
"Hey, Trowa!" I waved at the silent man at the toaster who nodded, but didn't smile.  
  
"You should eat something, Duo. How long ago have you eaten, exactly?" Trowa looked concerned for his new tenant, me. I haven't had someone be worried about me beside the 'voice' in my whole life. It made me feel surprisingly good.  
  
"Ok, mom, I get the point." I said, sitting at the table. Quatre laughed at this comment and went back to the coffeemaker he had been at previously, grabbing the cup that was meant for himself, but instead, gave it to me.  
  
I looked at him, first confused, but still grateful at the offer, as if to ask why.  
  
"I'll get another cup for myself, it's no trouble at all," He answered my silent question and practically skipped over to the coffeemaker to wait for another cup's worth.  
  
"T.thanks, but." I looked up sorrowfully at Trowa, who was now handing me a slice of toast, ".I have nothing to give in return."  
  
"We don't expect anything in return," Trowa said quite seriously and pushed the food closer. I couldn't believe these people were actually doing this without expecting anything at all. It was something in the green eyes that told me he expected nothing in return. I had never been showed such hospitality in my whole life, and I could tell we were going to become good friends.  
  
"Gee, thanks," I said as my maturity level dropped and I hungrily devoured the toast, chugged down the coffee, and sped out the door, "Thanks Tro! Quat! See ya in a few!"  
  
I doubted they heard me. Good breakfast, though, I thought as I walked down the streets of the city, and quickly stopped in a general store for a newspaper. I discarded all but the job postings.  
  
The first job I saw was telemarketing. Well, I enjoyed annoying people, but it just wasn't for me. I could be an interpretive dance instructor, but no amount of money is worth the humiliation. Not that I had any dignity left, of course. It had pretty much all been lost the first time I tried to hide. It's funny how people like me never learn from their mistakes.  
  
It was then that I saw it; the perfect job. I passed all the qualifications, too. I had plenty of previous singing references, and plenty of experience. Actually, singing was my main source of income during all of my travels, even though it could barely pay for the cost of the amount of hair care products I use every month.even the cheap kinds.  
  
I had a feeling that this job wasn't going to pay any better, but at least it was something, and you'd better bet I was going to have fun. I went to the nearest phone booth on the street and searched my pockets for spare change; just enough for one call. I looked at the number on the newspaper and dialed. It took a couple of rings before I heard a voice on the other end.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Yeah, hi, ummm, is this Chang Wufei?" I stumbled over the half-smeared name on the paper.  
  
"Yes, who is this?" The man sounded skeptical, almost ready to hang up. If I didn't do something he'd hang up and I wouldn't have enough change to call again. I panicked.  
  
"I'm calling about the singing job. My name's Duo Maxwell."  
  
"Do you live in the city?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you have references?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you have an audition. Meet me at the corner of 5th and 24th as soon as possible. I'm on my way out right now, is that all right?"  
  
"That's just fine with me." I answered happily. It was the perfect way to spend my first afternoon back in the city.  
  
"Great. See you there." I heard a click and the dial tone. I put the phone back on the hook and continued my journey to the center of the commotion of the place. It was amazing how the city seemed to grow as I neared the heart of the city, and not long after, came upon the designated meeting place.  
  
I leaned against the wall to some building, kind of blending in a little and waiting for a few minutes, looking to see what was going on. It wasn't long till I noticed a serious-looking young Chinese man with a short, black ponytail who hadn't followed the crowds with the white of the walk sign for quite some time, now. I came up out of my little hiding place and positioned myself where I was sure he'd be able to see me waiting.  
  
"Are you Duo Maxwell?" He came up to me and cautiously asked. The guy was quite the looker; and I probably would have fallen for him right then if I didn't have my eye on someone else at the moment.  
  
"Sure am! Nice to meet you, Wufei," I extended my hand with a similar friendliness that Quatre had shown me, and the young man reluctantly accepted, and motioned for me to follow him.  
  
I was surprised at how trusting he was being towards me; I never had really been accepted by so many people like this before. It's just because they didn't know who I was, well, neither did I, but once they knew something, they would hate me. I had tried so hard for so long not to fit in, so that people would stay away from me, and save themselves the pain. It was so hard to keep myself ostracized, because it hurt me so much. This time I was being selfish, because I was letting all of them become my friends. I was such a fool.  
  
We reached a building and he showed me inside and up several flights of stairs to a small room with a piano.  
  
"So, you play in clubs and things, right?" I asked, leaning against the walls, testing the acoustics of the room with my loud voice. It wasn't terrible.  
  
"Yes. I'm just the lowly pianist and manager of the band. The guys can be so irresponsible sometimes, and they left me to choose the new singer," he growled, almost not wanting me to hear, but I heard well enough, all right. Good. If the band members were bastards, I wouldn't have to worry about making friends with them.  
  
"S'okay Wu-man," I patted him on the shoulder, and he shook my arm off him indiscreetly, walking over to the piano, "What do you want me to sing?"  
  
"Anything you want, I guess, unless you prefer an introduction, but I don't think you're that arrogant. I can pick it up as you go." Wufei smirked, obviously confident in his own skills. It was almost a challenge.  
  
I accepted.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
"YES!" I yelled in a rare burst of joy, bouncing down the crowded sidewalk.  
  
I couldn't believe Wu-man actually gave me the job! I was cheery, true, but only because I hadn't a reason to be so happy in a really long time. The truth being, I was exhausted, and hungry, but I swallowed my hunger along with my weariness for a moment of meek bliss that I wanted to last forever.  
  
I quietly pushed the open door to the building, where Quatre was doing some renovations on the old place. He looked kind of cute with his apron that was splattered with random drops of blue. It matched his eyes nicely. Quatre held the paintbrush like a weapon at me as I opened the door, probably expecting a stranger, ready to tackle the criminal to the ground and restrain him with the wide-bristled canvas implement. It was a funny thought, at least.  
  
"Hey, Q. It's just me, Duo, remember?" I held my hands up in surrender at the threatening brush. Blue eyes softened and Quatre smiled as Trowa came around the corner, apron splattered with paint, to see what the commotion was about.  
  
"We've been putting off painting this old place for over a year. It's about time we did something about it, especially since there's another one of us living in this dump." Quatre explained, pointing to the paint.  
  
"Would you like me to help?" I offered, but Trowa shook his head.  
  
"You look much too tired. Don't trouble yourself, Duo. There'll be plenty more for you to do after you get some rest." Trowa looked me over, and Quatre nodded to agree that I looked pretty horrible.  
  
"Then I guess I'll see you in an hour or so," I waved lazily at my new friends and climbed the stairs up to my apartment, collapsing on the bed, feeling the rough bedspread underneath me was like heaven.  
  
I guess I hadn't noticed the bags that were growing under my eyes, not so much from lack of sleep, I didn't think, but from everything that has been going on these days. My outing that afternoon had almost made me forget that, even though every other second I was thinking about the angel in my dream.  
  
He wasn't real, I know, but he was just so beautiful, so perfect, and if I could only see him in my dreams, it would be enough. I knew that last night when I met him that I would never love another, and longed for sleep, when there was hope of seeing him once again.  
  
....Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep and was suddenly inside the room with the mirror. I didn't even have a chance to walk there and see the broken floorboards on the landing, but I did notice that the room seemed slightly older than it had the previous night. The angel said before that we couldn't leave. Did he mean the house, or my dream? I checked the door, my only exit, and it was once again locked.  
  
Sliding down helplessly onto the floor, I sat, my back facing the door, and proceeded to watch the moon through the window, and the mirror it shone upon. I didn't want to look in the mirror, not again. It only showed me lies, and I never lied to anyone. How was I supposed to uphold that promise if I lied to myself?  
  
I watched the moon as it stood in the sky. It felt like hours that I sat there, and it seemed that the moon should have moved by that time. I had gone to pacing the room, and calling out loud to the angel to come and talk to me, never once looking in the mirror.  
  
I passed what seemed to be so long in that room, just thinking. It was deadly dull, and then I became fixated on the mirror, the curiosity finally getting to me. It didn't hurt to look after all. I knew what I'd find anyway. Looking into the mirror, sure enough, were the two black wings folded up behind me, and there was no way I could make sure they were actually real, because if I attempted, it would only bring me to a worse nightmare. I had tried this too many times. It was better to succumb to the wishes of a dream I had no control over.  
  
I looked down and started fiddling with my hands in front of the mirror, and then, looking up into the mirror again, I saw a flash of white and blue cobalt eyes that stared at me through the mirror. My heart sped, and I spun around in hopes of meeting with him just one more time, when I found myself awake, sitting up in bed, and breathing heavily.  
  
I grabbed my braid and started fiddling with the end, going over my dream in my head. I just wanted to see my angel again.  
  
I got up off the bed, which I hadn't even gotten into, and walked downstairs, still a little drained from the dream. Quatre and Trowa were happily working, putting a second coat of paint on their first wall when I came in.  
  
A paintbrush trembled and then fell from the shaking hand of the blond who had just laid eyes on me. He fainted.  
  
"Quat!" I yelled, running down the stairs to help my friend, even though I had no idea what just happened.  
  
"S..S..Stay BACK!" Trowa startled me, as he held his hand up, quite shaken, and just kept staring at me.  
  
"What did I do?" I asked in protest, using my hands to show my absolute unknowing of what was going on. Trowa simply pointed a wary finger at me, but it seemed as if he was looking above me.  
  
/There was no way../  
  
I took one glance above, and there they were; black wings that had just lost me the only friends I had.  
  
I took one look at them and broke into tears, running to the apartment in a state of pure sadness. I threw my unpacked belongings back into the suitcase I had grown to know so well, dampening some of them with salty tears that wouldn't leave. At least something wouldn't leave me. Everything else had. But if I left this time, I asked myself as another tear grazed my cheek, where would I go?  
  
Tbc?  
  
********************  
  
Thanks so much to all my reviewers, Miss Kissranada, seamaidian, matchbox, and Elle-FaTe2x1!  
  
I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and there may be others..I'm still not sure.  
  
Oh please review! I love reviews!  
  
Thank you! 


	3. A Lost Soul

A Lost Soul:  
  
I threw another black shirt into the suitcase, and realized that what I was doing was pointless. Of course, I had known before, but it only had just hit me. Wiping the tears from my eyes, it was time to face facts. This was one hell of a mystery, and one that I intended to solve.  
  
It was strange; my shoulders barely felt any weight added onto them, and yet, here were these....wings. They weren't supposed to be real, but if the wings were real, then what else was real, I wondered. However, there was no time to be sitting to trifle over that, I thought, walking into the bathroom to look in the mirror.  
  
"What the hell?" I hissed into the mirror, which stood back at me, reflecting...absolutely nothing?  
  
I looked up, behind, and down. Uh huh, I was still there, in my black- winged entirety, just not in the mirror. This was great, just great, now I was a vampire, but it was impossible, I realized, after thinking for a minute.  
  
I fingered my silver cross that hung around my neck, and I wasn't bursting into flame or anything, proving once and for all that I wasn't a vampire, but then what was I? One moment I was just a guy who hears 'voices' and the next I'm a winged freak. I examined the wings for the first time. They felt like velvet, and were soft as well, not to mention that they were a part of me. I got quite a shock when I ran my finger down the edge, and saw blood drip down my arm. It was as sharp as the blade of a sword. I could really hurt someone if I wasn't careful, but then again, what kind of company would I attract with these things, anyway?  
  
I couldn't go downstairs, because Trowa had already clearly expressed his opinion on that idea, and I had caused Quatre to faint, which, I'm sure, speaks for itself. But, on the other end of the spectrum, I couldn't very well go outside to face the public. Within 24 hours they'd have me in pieces on top of an operation table. I slumped down onto the floor, unable to think at the moment. It was much, too much to handle.  
  
The best thing to do was probably to go downstairs and reassure Trowa and Quatre of their safety before they called the whole damn militia on me. That's what I would do in their situation, I thought with a sad and helpless chuckle.  
  
I slowly walked out of the room and made my way down the stairs, but I didn't see either of them. They were probably in the living room. I came to the downstairs landing and Trowa lifted his head up to stare fearfully at me as I looked ashamedly at him through the doorway. Trowa was attending to the blond, who was on the couch with a damp towel over his forehead, and it seemed that he was awakening from his fall.  
  
I watched as he stirred, but Trowa refused to take his eyes off me, for even a second.  
  
"Hm? Trowa.?" Quatre's sleepy voice upon awakening trailed off in silence when he noticed my presence. I thought a little about what I should say, but the truth was that there was no right way to say 'I have huge black wings and I don't know why.'  
  
"I'm sorry," I choked and was on the verge of tears. It was always so hard to be accepted, "I don't know what's happening to me." I looked down at my hands and my cut finger, and by running my hand over it, accidentally opened the cut up again. I let a silent tear run down my face. The cut didn't hurt, but I did.  
  
I didn't notice, but Quatre was feeling sympathetic rather than fearful, and was having an unspoken conversation with the manager, almost asking permission to accept me. And despite Trowa's protests, Quatre sat up to speak.  
  
"Well, Duo, it seems that we'll have to keep you inside for a while, don't you think so Trowa?" Quatre nudged the stoic man, and he nodded reluctantly.  
  
"But you don't even know what I am.." I protested without thinking. It didn't seem believable that anyone would want of their own free will to keep me safe, especially like this.  
  
"And do you?" Trowa asked quickly.  
  
"Well, no." I answered truthfully.  
  
"Then there's nothing left to discuss. I trust you, Duo. You aren't the type who would lie." Trowa looked at Quatre, who was beaming at him with pride.  
  
I grinned. "You're the best, Tro!" I exclaimed.  
  
Quatre slowly got up, and proceeded to walk over next to me, marveling at my wings up close, but maybe a little too close. He extended a slender finger towards my right wing, "May I...?"  
  
"No, Quatre, don't!" I jumped away, startling the blond, and quickly held up my own finger, which had traces of fresh blood along it, to explain, "They're sharper than knives. I found out the hard way."  
  
"Oh." Quatre said, and we all looked at each other for a minute or two. The silence was awkward and consuming; we all were feeling awkward.  
  
"Maybe you can help me," I suggested, collapsing casually onto a small lounge chair and letting my wings drape over the back. They sat on the couch across from the coffee-table that divided us.  
  
"We'll try." Quatre motioned gently, glad, at least, that I wasn't an enemy, or at least, so I thought.  
  
"I don't know anything about these wings except that I have been dreaming about having them in my mirrored reflection for years, and now, I don't have any reflection at all!" I explained with a sigh, while both my friends widened their eyes in disbelief.  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.  
  
"No, I'm quite serious, but I'm not a vampire or anything." I answered, and Quatre got up for a minute, rummaging through a few things in a pile by the couch, and quickly found a mirror. I shot up from his seat, and modeled myself in front of the mirror, while the two onlookers stared in disbelief at the mirror, which showed absolutely nothing.  
  
"How can you be so sure that you're not a.a vampire?" Quatre stuttered.  
  
"Ummm..I don't drink blood, I love sunlight, and I wear this," I showed them my silver cross that I brought out from underneath my red turtleneck and black leather jacket. Two faces agreed silently that I wasn't a vampire, but this whole idea was still crazy.  
  
Quatre was sitting, and seemed to be thinking very intensely.  
  
"What's wrong Quat?" I asked, and the Arabian looked up at me with knowing blue eyes.  
  
"This might sound a little silly, but I've always been interested in the supernatural, and I used to do investigations on this sort of thing, but had given up on ever finding anything. That's probably why I was so shocked when I saw you, Duo. In my last year of research, I was busy with an old English document that had something to do with this sort of thing. They all said I was crazy to actually believe it, but everything else in the document was so accurate in every other way that I couldn't help but wonder..."  
  
"What did it say?" I asked eagerly.  
  
"It said that only beings with a soul AND a physical body can be reflected in a mirror." We both stared at the blond in confusion before he started again, "Assuming that vampires have no soul, and only a physical body, it would make sense that they were not reflected in a mirror."  
  
"But, ummmm, Quatre, I have a physical body..."  
  
"Maybe you don't." Quatre replied, very confident in his answer. Very confident, I thought, considering that it wasn't possible. It was pretty obvious that I had a body; I was standing in front of them. What more proof did he want?  
  
Trowa was very skeptical, you could tell from his face, but he wouldn't say anything. My guess was that he had been friends with Quatre for a long time and didn't want to insult his intelligence or something like that. He was very polite during the whole conversation, all things considered.  
  
"I really don't understand how that makes sense. You can see me, right?" I asked. This was edging on sarcasm, but I didn't want to seem too rude, even though the idea was completely ridiculous. However, maybe it was time that I learned the most unbelievable of ideas are often times the best.  
  
"May I touch your wing?" Quatre asked again, with hand out-stretched. I thought we had already been through this. If he had an obsession with my wing, it would have been helpful to know.  
  
"You'll get cut." I told him. He shrugged as if to say 'maybe not', and reached his hand out farther. I waited to feel his touch, but nothing happened. He reached out farther, to what should have been my wing, but it went THROUGH?!?!  
  
He pulled back abruptly and looked at his hand, almost as if to verify what he had just seen with his very own eyes.  
  
"I suspected as much." Quatre mumbled ominously. I was still trying to swallow the fact that his had actually had gone through my wing. It wasn't real?  
  
Great, first a vampire, now a ghost...why don't they just accuse me of witchery while they're at it?  
  
"But look!" I held up my bleeding finger in protest, "I bled! I'm real!"  
  
"Does it hurt?" Quatre asked.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Does it hurt, Duo?" he repeated the question. I looked at my finger and back at Quatre. It was a little scary, but now that he brought it up, he was right. I didn't feel a thing. It didn't hurt when I cut myself, or when I had accidentally opened it up earlier. I touched the cut, and traced a second finger along the edge of my wing. Nothing...yet, when I brought it to my face, it was bleeding. I looked up with frightened eyes, which told Quatre, who was shaking his head sympathetically, that he was indeed right.  
  
"...an illusion?" I almost whispered. The blond nodded back. I sighed heavily, sinking deeper in the chair, well as far as I could sink, considering I wasn't really there. Who the hell would do this to me? I'm nothing more than a 'soul', now. What did I ever do to deserve this?  
  
"It's alright, Duo. It's a lot better than being a vampire." Trowa added, hopeful that he'd be able to help in some way.  
  
"That's debatable," I muttered, "I'm going to go upstairs and..uh, go to sleep, I think. That's what started this whole mess. Maybe it'll get me out of it." I was talking to myself at this point, and Trowa watched silently as I made my way up the stairs. Quatre was looking sympathetically at me as he bit his lip, I noticed. He wanted to help me, I knew, and I wished he could, but something told me that this time around, I needed to be able to help myself first.  
  
I collapsed on the bed, and closed my eyes, immediately falling to sleep. The dream had been waiting for this opportunity, and it caught me as soon as it was able.  
  
I felt myself being swept into a deep void of slumber, and fell through a violet darkness, stopping only to fall on the worn wood of the mirror room floor.  
  
"Ouch!" I said instinctively, and brightened considerably. I could feel again! I was real! I looked at my hands, and my cuts hurt! This was great! (how many times do you get to say that?) I felt wings behind me, and smiled once more. Even though I hadn't returned to normal, but this was more normal than anything I had felt in the past couple of hours and grinned as I dusted myself off to get up.  
  
My grins at my injuries must have seemed a little awkward to the angel on the other side of the room, who I immediately noticed was staring at me when I got up; a slightly bemused look hanging on his normally serious face.  
  
"You came." He smiled slightly at me, but didn't stir from his position.  
  
"More like, ungracefully thrown down from a void of darkness." I didn't notice I actually said that out-loud until I looked over at the angel again, and blushed slightly. He was really stunning in the moonlight.  
  
"It's your dream, am I right? That means, if you came here, you must have wanted to. That's how things work in dreams."  
  
"Oh." I answered, and stared at him, with his white wings, and almost posed a question with my stillness.  
  
"You don't know who you are, do you?" I was taken a bit aback by the question, but did not move my eyes from his face. Beautiful, cobalt blue ones awaited an answer. I was dying to know who I was, who he was. I needed to know my identity. If I was going to be some type of demon, or what have you, I might as well know and make the best of it. What confused me most, though, was that he knew me. I certainly didn't know him, as much as I may have liked to. It's always pretty creepy when that happens, dream or not.  
  
"My name's Duo Maxwell, but that's not what you're talking about, is it?" I walked a little farther over, and looked in the mirror, where I was reflected in full. No loss of physical body here? The angel said that we couldn't leave, but I was hardly expecting for this. My dreams were reality, and reality was a dream? It didn't make sense!  
  
"Duo, I'm the reason they are putting you through all this." The angel stepped forward so the light was hitting him from the side. "Kill me."  
  
I couldn't believe what was happening. What was he talking about? I had to forget about the death wish, and focus onto the first statement. He couldn't be held responsible for anything that was happening to me, not if 'they' were hurting me. Wait, what was I saying? 'they'?  
  
"Just hold on a minute, who or what AM I, anyway?"  
  
This seemed to strike a soft spot in the angel because he cringed a little, and a face of sadness spread across his face. I was hesitant to edge him further when he didn't answer immediately. He seemed to really care about me, and had even asked for me to kill him in return for my well-being. I didn't even know him. What was wrong with me?  
  
"You are Shinigami, Duo. They brought you here so that you would kill me, so do it." The angel clenched his teeth and fists, looking away, almost as if in remembrance.  
  
"Listen to me! I have no intention of killing you, but you're being very difficult to talk to. Would you just tell me what's going on?" He nodded, finally realizing what he was putting me through, thank goodness.  
  
"You don't remember me," The angel backed away, it seemed, to hide his tears, and looked up out of the shadows. "Your people took your memories away from you. That day still haunt's me. It's my fault, Duo.."  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _flashback _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
"Shinigami will be here any minute, boy." The demon Treize spat bitterly, "He will decide your fate!" Black boots kicked the white-winged prisoner in the gut and he fell face-forward onto the ground. Heero gasped in pain, but still refused to give them the satisfaction of crying. He would never cry.  
  
Heero had already been beaten badly, and tortured in many ways for what his people, the angels, had done to the demonic race. It wasn't his fault that his side was the victor of the battle, but the innocent are always the ones who pay.  
  
Heero slowly staggered to his feet, which was difficult, considering his arms and wings were bound, making it difficult shifting weight. Treize was snickering to his demonic followers that rallied behind the angel soldier, and swung a sharp wing around to hit Heero squarely in the leg, below his tight shorts, and blood sped down the pale skin. The hundred-some demons who had gathered in the throne room were laughing at his expense, and all Heero could do was look backward and glare. They had no sense of honor, or pride to treat him thus. Heero could only guess at how cold-hearted this 'Shinigami' must be to allow this to happen before he was pushed to the front of the throne room and fell to his knees, weak and dizzy from loss of blood. "Enough." a young voice choked through tears, looking on from behind a door, through the laughter of the demons in his throne room. "Enough!!" the boy screamed, revealing himself to the mass of shocked demons before him.  
  
The whole room hushed immediately and Treize stepped forward to meet the young man with a cold smile, and a polite bow.  
  
"My lord, we have brought you a criminal. You are to decide his fate." The demon Treize smirked at Heero, who was on his knees, not fully recovered from his last blow.  
  
The violet-eyed boy with a long braid still had tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at the suffering angel, but he looked at Treize with eyes of fire, and extreme hatred crossed his features.  
  
"Shut up," he yelled scornfully at the still smirking Treize, "You take a boy from the battlefield, and expect him to atone for sins of his people. Can't you see he's injured?" a slender hand pointed at the suffering angel, "What kind of a sick game is this?"  
  
"This is war, my lord," Treize stood up from his bow, "we were meant to fight, and be fought with. This 'boy' is our enemy, and must be the first to know."  
  
"War is not a game," the amethyst-eyed boy hissed softly as he walked past the military leader, "..dumbass."  
  
Treize narrowed his eyes at the young Shinigami who knelt down beside the angel, and began to untie his hands and wings from bondage. Heero looked up, conscious again, into the demon's face, violet orbs wide with concern.  
  
"Did they do this to you?" a tenor voice broke into Heero's head. It was so soothing. Heero nodded weakly, and the boy finished with the knots. The ropes slid from Heero's arms and body, while the braided one clenched his fists and outspread his wings in anger.  
  
"Damn them!" He said to himself, as he looked up at snickering demons all around, "Damn YOU!" Shinigami screamed.  
  
An offended Treize's eyes narrowed, "That's quite enough, my lord. You are much too naïve to be knowledgeable in these circumstances. Why don't you go back to your room?" An icy, commanding coldness laced his voice as Treize stepped forward.  
  
"No, Treize, this has gone on long enough! I will not stand aside while you fight meaningless battles, not anymore!" violet eyes shone with tears as a determined Treize inched closer.  
  
"I've had just about enough of you! Demons are becoming weaker and weaker, and it's because WE have a weak LEADER! It's not the angel's fault. Let him leave, for all I care. The problem was right here all along!" Whispers erupted around the room as Treize stepped even farther forward, so that he was within striking distance of the young Shinigami, who had stopped crying, and stood up as tall as he could against the military leader who was easily two feet above him. He had no intent of moving.  
  
Heero looked on in amazement. Shinigami had freed him. It didn't make sense, from all angles. They must have brought him up to be ruthless and uncaring, just as he had been raised by the angels, and yet, this Shinigami had the courage to do something Heero could never do. The braided demon with violet eyes had stood up for what was right..and now, was about to pay the price. It should have been me, Heero thought guiltily, it's my fault....  
  
Shinigami flicked his wings in and out once nervously as Treize loomed above him ominously, and raised his hand to deliver a first blow to the unwavering boy.  
  
He swung, and Shinigami cringed, ready to receive, but an unlikely angel stepped between the two and was slapped down onto the floor beside the demons. Heero wiped the blood from his mouth and stood up to face them both.  
  
"You dare interfere!" Treize shouted, and struck a painful blow with his wings like double-edged swords into the submissive skin. Heero struck the ground, making it clear that he was in no condition to get up again. And although he was still conscious, another hit like that would surely mean his death.  
  
Treize was infuriated, arms poised, ready to strike the final blow.  
  
"Stop it, Treize!" The braided demon yelled firmly. Heero's eyes opened wide. He was ready to die. Shinigami knew this, too. Heero had asked for his death when he came between them. Why, then, did this young boy care to save him? It would mean nothing.  
  
"Well, if you insist on being on his side, I suppose you'll both have to suffer," Treize replied sweetly, in the most malicious of ways, "You will both die."  
  
"You forget, Treize, I am immortal." The violet-eyed boy stated.  
  
"Even immortals can die." Treize hissed as he went after Shinigami with a sword that he pulled from a sheath hidden underneath his robes, and struck him through the heart.  
  
The amethyst eyes whitened with shock as he fell slowly to his knees. The carpet below Shinigami was soiled with fresh blood, and empty eyes fell to the ground in lifelessness.  
  
Treize laughed heartily to all his demon followers who laughed in consequence, and Heero stood in front of the murderer. Shinigami had given his life for him. It didn't seem real, and yet it was.  
  
"Y..you killed him.." Heero stuttered at the cold eyes of the demon standing before him, glancing down at the corpse of the one who had given his life for him.  
  
"No, fool! You killed him. But it doesn't matter, his soul lives on. That's the problem with immortals," Treize snorted indignantly, "But you," he grinned evilly, "will suffer a fate worse than death. You'd like it if I killed you, wouldn't you, now?"  
  
He searched Heero's face for answers, but all he received was a hateful glare from the angel.  
  
"I know!" Treize contemplated, "We'll lock you up somewhere you'll never be able to escape from, even by death. You will suffer there for the rest of your life, entirely secluded from everything. Isn't that wonderful, gentlemen?" He searched the demonic audience for approval and received a rallying cry from every creature in the room. They all wanted revenge. The death of Shinigami was not enough to quench their thirst.  
  
"It seems as if your fate is sealed, boy." Treize said as he flicked his hand nonchalantly, and a pair of fairly large demons took Heero in their grasp, dragging the struggling angel out of the room.  
  
The door shut with a loud slam and Treize smirked and sat himself upon the throne that was meant for Shinigami, who was still laying in a pool of blood on the floor. He was handed a glass of wine, and he held it up to the demons.  
  
"A toast....to a new era, where the demons may rule again!" He lifted the glass to his lips and chuckled egotistically.  
  
Cries of revenge and of evil could be heard throughout the dark halls where Heero was still being dragged off through. He had stopped struggling by now, realizing there was no hope of escape. He was still thinking about Shinigami, as he would be for the next 15 years, the blood, the tears, the violet eyes. What had he done...?  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ end flashback_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
TBC  
  
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Thanks to all my reviewers. Here's what I have to say:  
  
Luna_Chan: Thanks so much! ^-^ I hope this chapter wasn't too weird. Thanks for writing a review! Matchbox: Thanks so much for reviewing again! I'll deal with where Duo will go in the next chapter. I have a plan, finally *phew* I hope this chapter wasn't too much to swallow. Xangel: I'm so glad you like it!! One of the best fics on the site? Thanks!!!! I'd hardly say so, but I'm trying my best *smiles*. I'm sorry, I like torturing Duo, and all the other characters....but I have a weakness for happy endings! *wink* Maxwellscurch: I'm glad you like it. I think this chapter totally threw off the 'well rounded' plot, but you have helped convince me that this story is worth something, so I intend on going all the way with this one. I have a plan. Thanks for reviewing. Antigone: I loved reading the play, 'Antigone'! It's one of my favorites....talk about drama and angst, eh? Thanks for the complement, and thanks for reading! K: I'm not going to touch on the Heero issue in the 'real world' for a while yet, I don't think. The 'voices' come later, too. I have to deal with background first, before any of that part of the plot comes into play, but I hope it's soon! Thanks for reviewing! Elle-FaTe2x1: Thanks so much! I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope it wasn't too weird, because I was in a really depressing mood when I wrote this. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
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O.o Whoa..that was weird.  
  
Please review! I need to know if I'm still sane.  
  
Thanks so much!! 


	4. A Prisoner

Chapter 4: Two Prisoners  
  
I stood looking at Heero for a minute or two after he finished, looking pained as if he was in my debt and not the other way around.  
  
I wasn't really so surprised that I had been Shinigami in a previous life; and the title 'God of Death' seemed to suit someone like me. Death hides from a person their whole life, and comes upon them unexpectedly, throwing them and everyone around them into chaos and misery. Sounds like the story of my life, I thought bitterly.  
  
"Am I still. . .who you say I was?" I asked, looking at the angel once again. He snapped out of the trance he seemed to be in currently and looked up at me from the floor.  
  
"You are Shinigami, leader of the Demons," He continued, eyes of steel blue came to my own, "I'm surprised they didn't tell you before you came here. You must have had some idea, though. Illusions can only fool someone for so long. I suspect that if they had power enough to keep your full self in that world, then you would still be there."  
  
"You mean the other demons, right?" I looked at him, and he nodded.  
  
So that's what Quatre had been talking about! My soul and body belonged in this world, wherever that may be, and that explained why my physical body had disappeared and my true form had come in the other world. It was a defect in the connection; the demons were no longer able to keep me there.  
  
I sighed loudly and slammed my back into the wall behind me, sliding down slightly in frustration. A bemused angel looked on and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"So, what's your name?" I raised myself up a bit and crossed my arms, smiling, "I can't very well go around calling you 'angel'. And we might as well get to know each-other; I have a feeling we're not going anywhere for a while."  
  
"Hn," He agreed, "My name is Heero. I am forever in your debt."  
  
"Listen, Heero, you shouldn't be thanking me! I made your life a living hell! I mean, not that I remember it, or anything, but that's not the point. . ." I stopped suddenly, realizing that I didn't remember any of this, so it didn't really matter what I said. It would all be a lie, because I had only his memory to base the actual event on.  
  
"There is nothing to be sorry for." Heero said, realizing that I was confused and lost for words. I, then, started to flush red with confusion, playing with the end of my braid and looked down at my feet quickly. I didn't know what to say.  
  
I was even more lost than I thought, and played with the stray hairs in my braid as if they were my last strands of hope for this seemingly impossible situation. I was so busy thinking about myself, that I didn't even notice that Heero was slowly inching closer.  
  
I suddenly felt a cold hand brush my cheek, and I looked up helplessly into cobalt blue eyes that flinched nervously. I wasn't sure if it was in the way the moonlight reflected off his white wings, or the way he touched my cheek so gently, and with so much feeling, but I could have sworn I was. . . falling in love. . .  
  
/kill the angel/  
  
. . .the voice. . .?  
  
/kill him NOW/  
  
I backed away from Heero, afraid of being near him, for fear that something might come over me and I wouldn't be able to control myself. I looked in every direction dreadfully, but it was only in my head, just as it had always been. It had never asked me to do anything before! I thought 'the voice' was my friend!  
  
"You stay away from Heero!" I yelled into the air, searching for any sign of anything in the room, but with no prevail. I looked briefly at Heero, who was puzzled, but realizing that something was very wrong, came to my side.  
  
"Duo? What is it?" I looked at him, wanting to throw my arms around him and cry onto his shoulder, never letting go. . .  
  
/Are you deaf?! You must KILL HIM/  
  
"Leave me alone! You're a thing of the past. Leave me out of your games. I am no longer your Shinigami!" I yelled out-loud at the voice in my head, pulling my hands into my heart in a nervous fist. I continued retreating backwards until I hit the wall and looked behind me, panicked.  
  
/You are Shinigami, now and forevermore. There is no use denying who you are. You were meant to lead us into power, but, alas, you failed. I had to punish you as was necessary/  
  
"Treize. . .?" I whispered. My eyes widened in shock, and grew into terror, while an angered Heero looked on in shock at the conversation I seemed to be having with myself and upon hearing me say 'Treize', his visage turned spiteful. He was worried for me, and felt helpless within his hatred. I saw this, and also noticed him coming slowly closer.  
  
"Duo! Don't listen to him! Whatever he is telling you, it's not true!" Heero came even farther closer and I started to inch towards him, when Treize's voice came back again.  
  
/How dare that angel. It's truly despicable. He is the one who lies! Why do you think he wants to get close to you? He wants to kill you, and how couldn't he? You are the one who caused the angel's imprisonment in this isolated world. . . he wants revenge! Do not be fooled! I am only trying to help you, my lord. . ./  
  
I looked at Heero with widened eyes. He was advancing fast. Who was I supposed to believe? It seemed obvious, but I had reason to question.  
  
The voice had been with me ever since I could remember, but I had spent countless dreams looking at Heero's painting up on the wall, and had actually spoken with him. He was beautiful, and probably could have made anyone fall in love with him if he wanted to, but somehow, I felt that he was being honest with me. The demon Treize hadn't even the pride to show up anywhere other than my head. He didn't care about me. No one had ever really cared about me, except Quatre and Trowa, and if I was lucky, Heero cared for me, too.  
  
". . . no. . . YOU are the liar. . ." I hissed through clenched teeth, "Show yourself, you coward!"  
  
/I think you are being much too hasty. I am no murderer. You were obscenely out of hand. I simply had to do something about it before you ended up hurting someone/  
  
"You don't deny it then, but I cannot remember anything, Treize, you know that! This fight is meaningless. Show yourself!" I could faintly hear Heero screaming in the background, but I felt myself fading fast, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.  
  
/Maybe it is meaningless, but if it is so meaningless, why do you insist on taking the angel's side? Surely if you refuse to believe me, it is only fair you do not believe anyone before hearing the true story/  
  
He was right. I couldn't win. It was a one-sided conversation. He had the upper-hand, and he knew it, but I couldn't afford to loose. My reason of existence hung in the balance.  
  
"Very well, Treize, show yourself and we can have your fair trial." I almost couldn't bring myself to say this decently, but pushed myself to do it, for Heero, who had completely disappeared. In fact, I didn't even know if I was still dreaming or not. But, then again, if my soul had only been in the other world before, than this wasn't really dreaming, was it?  
  
/"Good. . ."/  
  
I listened as the voice echoed in the black and empty place in which I stood. It was no longer in my head. All of the sudden, upon this thought, saw a light at the end of what was seemingly a long hallway. I followed it to the end, and immediately came into what looked like a courtroom.  
  
The first thing I noticed was the long red carpet, like a throne room, and at the head of the rug was a rather large chair in which sat a rather large demon, well, not compared to the size of a regular man, but I was hardly as tall as he. The smirk on his face as he gazed upon me told me at once that this was the room of my previous death, and the smartly-dressed aristocratic demon on the throne was Treize himself. The room was filled with rows of chairs in which men, women, and child demons sat to witness my entrance. All of them had a cold, yet knowing look about them. Am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on here?  
  
I readied myself to speak, attempting to bring my hands to make expressive gestures, when I noticed they were weighted lightly with a pair of handcuffs. I widened my eyes, upon feeling this; I was a prisoner. . .  
  
"Welcome, Shinigami." Treize said, the familiar and dreaded voice dripping from his disdainful face as he looked down on me. These words were bitter, though. He didn't really mean to say 'welcome', it was more of a 'help us or die' greeting. Well, they were out of luck, there. Death didn't mean anything to me, now, but damn, I was looking forward to singing with Wufei's band tonight.  
  
It's a shame I couldn't call in sick or something. And I couldn't lie, so what would I say?. . . 'heya, Wufei, I sprouted wings and was whisked off to another dimension where a bunch of people who killed me in a previous life want something from me'. . . I might as well kiss my singing career goodbye.  
  
"Treize, I said I wanted to talk fairly." I motioned with a turn of my head to my bound hands, and Treize smirked.  
  
"But, lord, you wanted a 'trial'. . ."  
  
"I trial for YOU, Treize. I have done nothing wrong." I clenched my teeth in anger, and Treize was enjoying every bit of it, I could tell. Wisely, I calmed down a bit to stifle his amusement.  
  
"You're the traitor, here." He snorted, because I had already given him the satisfaction of knowing my frustration.  
  
"How can you charge me with treason when I have nothing to betray?!" He just smiled. There was plenty he could use against me. There was nothing I could do about this situation, and he knew it. . . why, then, did I see a hint of fear in some of the eyes of the demonic onlookers? I decided to ignore it for the time being, and focus on the problem at hand.  
  
Treize completely ignored my question, perhaps thinking that either I or my question was insignificant in the matter and quickly changed the topic, motioning me up to the front of the room. I had no other choice but to follow in the confused state that I had slipped into.  
  
Standing in front of the crowd, my eyes fell upon a small demon, well actually, only his wings. They were shaking furiously, and when he poked his head up from beneath the seat, he saw me looking straight at him and gasped, apparently terrified. He then began tugging desperately onto his mother's dress, and crying into the black folds. She looked at me, a little frightened, but not so much to hold back the glare I received for her child's hysterical state. I almost couldn't believe that they were scared of me. . . I mean, really scared. My eyes were widened in shock at the crying child and saw as others around the room stared at me with awe, and hateful in the same. It made me wonder what I could have done to deserve all that fear.  
  
I felt a glare strike at me from the side; Treize.  
  
"Begin." He said simply, and I looked at him and became extremely agitated.  
  
"Begin what?! You're going to have to be a little more specific." I mumbled. I was absolutely disgusted at what was being demanded of me. . .I assumed an apology. This was all just a long and horrible dream. . .that's it.  
  
"If you'd rather me speak on your behalf, I'd be happy to, my lord." He hissed spitefully.  
  
"This isn't fair, you know!" I screamed at Treize before turning my head to the audience, smiling slightly to tell them they had nothing to be afraid of. Some of their faces looked a little relieved, and some pitiful, although not as many as I had hoped. The little boy demon had stopped crying for a moment when I smiled at him in particular. He looked a little surprised, as did the rest of them. It must have been my natural charisma. . . but that's just my ego talking.  
  
"I'll be honest with you all," I began casually with a bit of a sigh in my voice, "My name is Duo Maxwell. I know who you think I am, but I really see no reason to believe any of you. For all I know, I could be dreaming, or hallucinating, both of which I have been known to do. Therefore, I cannot speak on my behalf, seeing as how I do not understand the charges, nor do I remember them."  
  
"You must remember the angel, Duo." He narrowed his eyes at me, while maintaining a pleasing face to the audience. I wasn't sure how he was able to do that. I supposed he had practice at this sort of public humiliation. The worst kind, too. . .the subtle kind. "You refused to kill the angel; did you not? The friend of our enemy is in turn our enemy as well." Treize opened his wings in an attempt to be intimidating.  
  
"I'm soooooo scared." I dripped sarcasm, and chuckled lightly as Treize drew his sword and held it to my throat. "Go ahead and kill me, Treize, it doesn't make any difference. You'll just be delaying what should have happened 15 years ago, if what I hear is true, that is."  
  
He pushed the metal up to my throat harder so that it drew a tiny slit in my skin, but not enough to do more than throttle my sly remarks. My hands were still handcuffed so there was nothing I could do to stop these threatening moves, and nothing I could do had he decided to kill me. I was still smirking slightly, and almost mockingly when Treize became so infuriated that he looked ready to kill. And he probably would have if it hadn't been for the little demon child in a seat that spoke out to his mother. The whole room could hear clearly what he said, though, because it had become eerily quiet as Treize held the sword to my throat.  
  
"The bad guy isn't going to die, is he, mommy? I don't want him to die. He smiled at me just like daddy does. Daddy's not a bad guy, is he?" All faces turned to the innocent voice clinging to his mother who quickly quieted him with a quick reply of 'no' and a finger to her lips.  
  
Treize lowered his sword upon hearing this from such naive lips, and decided that now was not the time, although I could see that in his eyes, he really didn't want to wait till later. He took his chair at the head of the room, and proceeded to address the audience, while I skillfully maneuvered my way so that no one was able to see behind me, and began to work on the handcuffs.  
  
I observed Treize making some sort of speech, but wasn't really paying much attention. I had plenty of experience with handcuffs and other locks, but these were easiest. . . well, usually. I found, soon enough, that these were no ordinary locks. They were sealed with some kind of magic, and I couldn't understand it. From all the movements of my hands and fingers behind me, even the most sophisticated of handcuff locks should have become undone, but these wouldn't budge. Damn!  
  
After struggling for a minute or two, Treize's speech was over and it seemed that they all were going to vote on my fate. The demons might have a democracy, I thought bitterly, but they sure aren't very democratic about it. You're supposed to let people make decisions on their own, which usually means without the underlying death threat. Yeah, too bad that I couldn't say anything that they couldn't use against me. This must have been how Heero felt.  
  
The innocent always pay. . .  
  
I felt the anger boiling inside me, and a felt a purple fire surround me, although I was pretty sure no one else noticed, and instinctively concentrated my energy on getting the handcuffs off. Was this magic. . . well, whatever it was, it sure was coming in handy. I felt the handcuffs break off my hands, and hundreds of eyes landed upon me as they heard the metal fall to the ground.  
  
I was first a little dazed, but the purple fire still burned around me. I faintly heard several guards being sent after me, and heard each one scream in pain as they attempted to touch me. I knew it was because of the purple fire, but I soon realized that they couldn't see it! I opened my eyes in surprise as several demons were howling in pain of their hands and arms that had come in close contact with me. My eyes were still in awe of the experience and the last thing I saw was a blur of purple, wondering what Heero would say, before I passed out from exhaustion on the cold floor of the demonic courtroom. _______________________________  
  
Disclaimer: This is pretty obvious to anyone, but I don't own Gundam Wing. Don't sue me. I'm poor. I plead the fifth. Umm. . . you get the idea. _______________________________  
  
Please tell me what you think.  
  
Tell me that it's wonderful, tell me I'm insane, tell me that you hate that I don't include any girls in this fic (although I'm getting to that), but please tell me something. . .  
  
Thanks so much! 


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